


Getting to Know You

by spikesgirl58



Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Waverly orders Napoleon to get to know his partner better, it's doubltful he meant what Napoleon preceives as the best way to do it.  Written for the Valentine's Day Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting to Know You

_“You and your partner are getting too familiar with each other, Mr. Solo.  You need to resolve this.”_

_“Napoleon, where is your mind these days?  I should just go back home to my teddy bear and cocoa for all the attention I’m getting here.”_

_“You need to make a decision, Solo.  What team are you playing on?”_

As of late, Napoleon had been getting some rather conflicting messages from his partner and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

Napoleon Solo – Man About Town, every woman’s dream date.  He’d heard what the women said about him.  The fact was he liked women.  He liked them a lot.  They were soft and smelled good.  Many were instantly docile in his embrace, obliging and willing, when the moment came, to follow his lead.  Napoleon couldn’t think of anything better than dining, dancing, and romancing a willing young lady.

Then his blond partner had waltzed in and shaken up his carefully-balanced life.  Illya wasn’t soft and he frequently smelled of sweat, dirt, and engine grease.  He was as tenacious as a bull terrier and about as easy going as a mongoose with a cobra in its sights.   Illya was not obliging or willing to do anything he thought differently about.   He was stubborn, sly, and Napoleon couldn’t get him out of his mind.

For months now, just after they started working together as a team, Napoleon had found his thoughts drifting down a dangerous and unsettling path.  He wondered what Illya would be like in bed.  Would he be as aggressive between the sheets as he was on the gym mats?

Napoleon could remember the first day they’d gone up against each other.  The hard, twisting muscles, the strength-carefully controlled moves not able to hide the undeniable need to win percolated just under Illya’s skin and that had been enough distraction for Napoleon to wind up on his back, staring up at the gym ceiling.  Illya had laughed and offered him two of the three falls, but Napoleon had had enough.  He escaped to the showers with his thoughts in a whirl.

From that moment on, Napoleon had, in short, become infatuated.  He’d laughed it off, drank it off, even tried screwing it off, but the thought remained.

Illya leaned down, a look of innocence on his face.  Napoleon wondered what Illya would do if he turned suddenly and planted a kiss on his partner’s lips.

Knowing Illya, Napoleon would end up nursing a broken limb to go with his broken heart while Illya put in for a transfer.  It would be better to just resist.  Better, but not more peaceful, not more comforting, or settling.  Napoleon was going to have to do something soon or he was going to end up in Psych with his right hand in a sling anyway.

He could feel Illya’s breath against his cheek and feel his body heat as Illya stooped even closer.  Then impulsively, uncontrollably, and without remorse, Napoleon snaked up a hand, caught Illya’s head and kissed him soundly.

They parted and Illya’s blue eyes narrowed.  “Why?” he demanded.

“Why did I kiss you?”

“Why did you stop?”

Napoleon, not having a very good answer of his own, shook his head slowly. “No idea.”  This time he moved slowly, took time to explore the mouth that met his, learning the taste of his partner, the last great frontier.  “Are you sure, Illya?” he murmured, tipping his head back as Illya’s mouth traveled down his throat.

“If I were any surer, Napoleon, they would be carting me away in a strait jacket.  You Americans are so dense at times.”  Illya began undressing Napoleon, working his tie loose, unbuttoning his shirt.  “Prepare to experience the mighty Russian… bare.”

“And you as well--” Napoleon joked, then gasped as Illya’s mouth started doing things that most women wouldn’t even think about doing.  And he thought back…

_“You and your partner are getting too familiar with each other, Mr. Solo.  You need to resolve this.”_

Resolution was very close at hand… well, mouth actually, but Napoleon was fairly certain hands would be involved later.

_“Napoleon, where is your mind these days?  I should just go back home to my teddy bear and cocoa for all the attention I’m getting here.”_

_Go with God, sweetheart_.  Napoleon had no idea where his mind was, but who wants to be a thinker at a time like this?

_“You need to make a decision, Solo.  What team are you playing on?”_

_Team Solo and Kuryakin,_ Napoleon decided.  _For the win…_

 


End file.
